Invitational Week 64: You're Workin' on a Chain, Gang

A classic connection game. Plus winning ways to stress yourself out.

Hello. Welcome to the new Invitational Gene Pool, which is new but also old.

It is the oldest Gene Pool Invitational ever, in fact, so old that it dates from a time when the Gene Pool was not yet even a gene or a zygote or a gamete or a pool or anything, though it might have been recognized as a human life by the state of Alabama. It was, at the time, a contest in New York Magazine, run by a very smart woman named Mary Ann Madden, and she had pioneered a type of contest requiring readers to link names, in a maddeningly brilliant sequence, starting with one name and ending with the same name. At the tender and sullen age of 21 or so, Gene entered this contest, one entry only, which included “U.S. Grant” linked to “Ford Foundation.” This link was published in New York Magazine, in the famed New York Magazine Competition, but attributed to someone else. Gene was outraged and pledged to spend the remainder of his miserable life avenging this terrible slight, and he did, starting The Invitational as The Style Invitational, in 1993, vengefully determined to destroy the New York Magazine Competition.

He succeeded, and here we are today. No one alive remembers the New York Magazine Competition, except us, with a little guilt. We have perpetrated several knockoffs of the name-chain contest, including the two versions we’ll use today. The first is identical — start with a name and end with the same name — and the second is a variation: Start with a name and end with a very, very different name, but one that has some sort of (probably negative) connection with the first:

Colin Kaepernick; “QB VII”; Leon Uris; Leon Panetta; Caspar Weinberger; Casper the Friendly Ghost; the Holy Ghost; God; Pope Francis; Francis Scott Key; “The Star-Spangled Banner”; Colin Kaepernick (Chris Doyle)

Kim Kardashian;  Lil Kim; Little Richard; “Good Golly Miss Molly”; Molly Shannon; Shannon, Ireland; Kathy Ireland; Christie Brinkley; Billy Joel; “Allentown”; Steve Allen; Merv Griffin; Eva Gabor; Eddie Albert; Albert Einstein.  (Hildy Zampella)

NY Mag called its name chain contest the Game of Dan Greenburg — the same humorist whose book coincidentally inspired this week’s (unrelated) Invitational results below. Here’s how we’ll do it this time.

For Invitational Week 64: Create a chain of no more than 15 proper nouns — names of people (real or fictional), products, places, etc. — in which each name relates somehow to the previous one, as in the examples above from our 2006 name chain contest (results here). What we’re looking for is, duh, clever and funny. You may bookend the list either with the same name, as in the first example, or with contrasting ones, as in the second.

We’re asking you to briefly explain the less obvious links — but only at the end of your entry. That way we can judge your entry without seeing the explanation, but be able to peek if we don’t get it.

Click here for this week’s entry form, or go to tinyURL.com/inv-form-64. As usual, you may submit up to 25 entries for this week’s contest, preferably all on the same form. Also as usual, please submit each individual entry — including any explanations in parentheses — as one single paragraph; i.e., don’t push Enter until you’re starting the next entry.

Deadline is Saturday, March 30, at 9 p.m. ET. Results will run here in The Gene Pool on Thursday, April 4.

The winner gets a handsome pair of socks that appear to be alligator heads eating your ankles. Highly recommended for wearing to your IRS audit.

Wear them with Crocs? This week’s prize. (Temu.com)

Runners-up get autographed fake money featuring the Czar or Empress, in one of eight nifty designs. Honorable mentions get bupkis, except for a personal email from the E, plus the Fir Stink for First Ink for First Offenders.

Meanwhile, send us questions or suggestions, which we hope to deal with in real time. You do this, as always, by sending them to this here button:

Say Yes to the Stress: The anxiety-producers of Week 62

In Week 62, inspired by Dan Greenburg’s 1960s humor classic How to Make Yourself Miserable, we asked for strategies on how to increase anxiety.

Third runner-up: When giving a public speech, imagine that you are naked. (Michael Stein, Arlington, Va.)

Second runner-up: Start to say something, then notice that the word on the tip of your tongue is staying right there on the tip, but not coming out of your mouth. Immediately assume you have early-onset Alzheimer’s. Google “What is the word for when you can’t think of the word you want to say” and freak out even more because you knew it was called aphasia but couldn’t think of it. (Judy Freed, Deerfield Beach, Fla.)

First runner-up: If you have financial worries, just stop spending money on your anti-anxiety medication. (Jesse Frankovich, Laingsburg, Mich.)

And the winner of a copy of “How to Make Yourself Miserable”: Tell the tattoo artist to “surprise me.” (Sam Mertens, Silver Spring, Md.)

As always, if you disagree with all of our choices, and find that the best entry is not one of the above, but one of the honorable mentions (below), tell us in the Comments.

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Send in your questions and observations here. We will answer them in real time.

Nervous Nearlies: Honorable mentions

Ask Elon Musk to name your newborn, promising to use whatever name he chooses. (Leif Picoult, Rockville, Md.)

Regularly worry that the recurring dream I have about being in school naked is my real life and that my dreams are actually the boring crap I thought was real. (Jon Gearhart, Des Moines)

You worry that your recently published paper on “impostor syndrome” will expose you for the incompetent hack you are. (Steve Smith, Potomac, Md.)

Do incriminating internet searches  like “undetectable poisons” and “how to hide a human body” and hope nothing bad happens to anybody you know for a few years. (Sam Mertens)

My date ordered a roasted garlic appetizer and an entree with garlic sauce.  I worry: Is she trying to tell me she doesn’t want to kiss me later? Warding me off like I’m a vampire?  Or maybe she just likes garlic?  Should I go heavy on the garlic, too, signaling that we have something in common?  Or will she interpret that as a sign that I don’t want to kiss her?  But I do want to kiss her.  So I guess I should indicate that by not ordering anything with garlic?  Maybe I should get something with a mint sauce? (Tom Witte, Montgomery Village, Md.)

Before embarking on a long drive in risky road conditions, don a pair of tattered, pee-stained underwear. (Jeff Contompasis, Ashburn, Va.)

When you’ve climbed halfway up to your second-story roof, the ladder’s right leg suddenly sinks two inches. You figure that if you keep your weight toward the left leg, you’ll probably be okay. (Dave Prevar, Annapolis, Md.)

Write “DEFUND THE POLICE” on your driver’s license with a Sharpie, then remove a taillight bulb. (Gary Crockett, Chevy Chase, Md.)

Call your mother. (Jesse Frankovich)

Go to a cemetery. Note all the headstones of people born after you. (Roy Ashley, Washington, D.C.)

I worry that my toenails will stop growing before I reach my goal: flipping the light switch without getting out of bed. (Jon Gearhart)

 You worry that if cigar is just a cigar, then your life’s work is meaningless, but if it’s not, then why do you always have one in your mouth? — S. Freud (Steve Smith)

If I wanted to make myself really nervous, I’d rearrange the pencils on my desk so that they are no longer in order of length. (Luther Jett, Washington Grove, Md.)

Program a speaker to occasionally play Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in D Minor when you open your basement door. (Duncan Stevens, Vienna, Va.)

Ride all night on the New York City subway with only a “Bang!” flag pistol in your pocket to protect you. (Chris Doyle, Denton, Tex.)  

Volunteer as a judge in a fugu chef competition. (Kevin Dopart, Washington)

Volunteer to bring cupcakes to the office for the boss’s birthday, then carry them in on a plate, riding your unicycle. (Duncan Stevens)

Send an OK Cupid message to someone you really like.  Immediately realize that you sounded like a total dork. Obsess over whether to send a follow-up message. Doubt that someone like him would even read another message from someone as dorky as you. Consider permanently deleting your profile. Worry that if you do, you will most likely die single, alone, and mysteriously bloated. (Judy Freed)

At your wedding, unconditionally trust a fart. (Kevin Dopart)

Summer is almost here and it’s time to bring out your swimsuit from the back of your dresser.  To calm your nerves, you polish off a sleeve of Oreos.  (Beverley Sharp, Montgomery, Ala.)

 Take a knee during the National Anthem at a Klan meeting. (Jon Ketzner, Cumberland, Md.)

Save a few bucks and cancel the home insurance. (Sam Mertens)

Instead of picturing the audience in their underwear, when I give a speech I picture them in my underwear.  Not only is this just as ineffective at decreasing anxiety, but then you also face that alarming question: “How did all these people get my underwear?” (Josh Feldblyum, Springfield, Pa.)

When shopping for a Valentine’s Day present for your wife, buy her some chocolates, but also buy a lacy bra and put it under the bed.  (Mark Raffman, Reston, Va.)       

When sitting next to Travis Kelce at a Taylor Swift concert, call for “Free Bird.” (Jon Ketzner)

When the toilet’s clogged, try your luck that an extra flush will clear things and not make them overflow. (Sam Mertens)

You alternately worry that your daughter won’t get into an Ivy League school and, if she does, that voters will find out she’s attending an Ivy League school. — T. Cruz (Steve Smith)

You secretly fear there’s more to fear than fear itself. — FDR (Steve Smith)

Take a little blue pill or two before giving your presentation to the League of Women Voters.  (Chris Doyle)  

And Last:  Complain to Pat and Gene that you don’t get enough ink. Then, when you still don’t get ink, wonder if that’s because you complained, or if it’s because your entries still suck. (Leif Picoult)  

And Even Laster: Should I quit doing this silly contest?  If I do, I’ll have a little more spare time.  I could start a new hobby, maybe pick up a new skill.  But after I quit people might THINK I’m still entering, and that I never get ink because all my stuff just sucks.  Damn it, am I stuck doing this forever? (Tom Witte, Invitational entrant virtually every week since 1993)

The headline “Say Yes to the Stress” is by Kevin Dopart; Chris Doyle wrote the honorable-mentions subhead.

Still running — deadline 9 p.m. ET Saturday, March 23: Our Week 63 contest for writing funny things by stringing together random words from President Biden’s State of the Union address. Click on the link below.

The Invitational Week 63: SOTU-Speak

Here comes the real-time segment. If you are reading this in real time, please keep refreshing your screen so you can see your observations and Gene’s responses. Many of the observations are related to our challenge to recall the worst thing you’ve ever done that you got away with.

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Q: What’s the story between you and Pat? Do you hate each other?

A: Yes, we do. It’s kind of like Mozart and Salieri. I am Mozart. Imagine the pressure: Week after week, when we must judge each other’s tastes in humor. We dispute individual assessments — dozens, some weeks — in judgments about how smart we are, and how stupid the other person is, on the central issue of our lives, funnyness. It is impossible to challenge the other without issuing a devastating pronouncement about the other’s lack of basic human ability, central to our lives. This occurs dozens of times a week. Just this week, Pat and I disagreed on an entry — I thought it was great; she thought it sucked — and we wound up having to kill it because she was so horribly wrong. In summary, we remain in one of the closest friendships humans can ever occupy. I love her.  

TIMELY TIP: If you’re reading this on an email: Go back to the top of this post and click on "View in browser" to see the full column live and online, and to read and make comments.  If you are doing it in real time, keep refreshing the screen to see the new questions and answers that appear as Gene regularly updates the post.

Also,

Speaking of life choices, here is one delivering a clear choice. You can 1) Support The Gene Pool and get full access to its goodies for the price of $5 a month, or upgrade from “paid” to “founding” member, or 2) endorse Donald Trump and everything he stands for by denying us support but reading us and then informing on us to your handlers at The Evil Trump Machine. The choice is yours. This is a free country, at least for the moment.

So:

I support The Gene Pool:

Or, alternatively, I support Donald Trump and all he stands for:

Q: I once smacked my dog, hard, for vomiting up some underpants. This was wrong and I regret it.

A: i understand. I have experienced this but did not smack. Eating underpants is awful but not insane, depending on the underpants and circumstances. Dogs are not Descartes. Their thought procesess are not perfect . '

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This is Gene. One of the greatest Dog Thoughts ever is this: That if you yell at Amazon package deliverers, they will go away AND still deliver their package.

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Q: Re robocalls and text to speech of names - As you can imagine, text to speech frequently mispronounces my last name (It's pronounced "Kotch", rhyming with "watch"), and often in a way that is decidedly not safe for work.

But at least it doesn't do to my name what it does to my sister Leanne's. She just loves getting robocalls from her doctors reminding "Lean Cock" that she has an appointment coming up.  – Gregory Koch

A: Thank you. 

Q:  I'm the asshole who could lose weight with no effort. When I realized that I now have to actually expend a little effort to do so, I said I felt like Superman.  You asked me to elaborate.  I felt like Clark Kent in this scene (around 1:20), after he loses his powers and is shocked than he can bleed: 

A: Ah. 

Q: Sorry, Gene, but "whacko" is like "vice-like".  You spelled it wrong.  Should be “wacko.” It has nothing to do with whack, or being whacked, and everything to do with "wacky."

PS I've seen a lot of misused homonyms since spell-check became ubiquitous.  Even peak peek pique.

A:  Correct.  I have no idea why I wrote it as “whacko,” because I hate that misspelling.  A Google search suggests that I have used it at least once before,  in a story I did for the Boston Globe.   HOWEVER, I see from the edit trail that the Globe’s editors INSERTED the term, replacing my word, which was “lunatic.”  I think they feared a lawsuit.   I was referring, of course, to Roger Stone.  

This was the lede, as it appeared in the Globe: 

When I read last week that Roger Stone, the famous political whacko and longtime Donald Trump confidant, said he knows there is a demonic portal to Hell hovering above the White House, quite visible, a swirling inferno in the general shape of a sphincter…,–

— Q: On 3/14 you wrote: "I doubt if anyone makes [pneumatic tubes] anymore."  By your own self-proclaimed "hidebound fogey" standards, shouldn't that have been "... any more" (two words)?  Whereas I was the guy who argued a few weeks back (and to prove it, I included my e-mail at the start of this post) that "anymore" (or some parallel compound) should now come to be considered acceptable when used for "any longer; these days in contrast to former times;" in other words, because it signals a useful distinction from "any more" referring to quantity, where the use of the single word should still be condemned, such as in "Is there anymore pie?"  (Even though this "pie" sentence quotes Albert the Alligator in *Pogo,* by Walt Kelly, a superb operator of the language.  Perhaps the error was that of Kelly's letterer, or of Albert himself.  But I digress.)  --Rick Bethto 

A:  Uh, wrong.   Your point about “any more” meaning quantity, is correct, but “anymore” is defined as, and I quote Merriam Webster, “any further extent; any longer.”

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Q: I think you are the only journalist I trust to answer this question.

I recently flew across the country and was reminded of a phenomenon that I don’t understand. Men, going into a public restroom to urinate, will sometimes unbuckle their belts and unfasten the button or snap on their pants as they approach the urinal. My understanding is that men’s pant are specifically designed to make this unnecessary. Unzip your fly, pull it out, and go. 

Is there a rational explanation for this behavior?

Next on the list, why do some men think that it is socially acceptable to rip long, loud farts at a public urinal?

A: 1) Modern pants and flies and undies are tailored for sleekness not for urinary convenience. Sometimes the easiest way to get at your apparatus is a full frontal assault on the area.  I can attest to this.

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Q: re: Trump's trials

 Here's something that's been bothering me about the arguments his lawyers are making to delay the trials and that I don't see anyone talking about. His lawyers argue that the trials should be delayed because they interfere with his ability to campaign.  So, if he wins on that argument and loses on Nov. 5, what's to stop him from announcing on Nov 6 that he is again running and becoming a perpetual candidate for the presidency, thus delaying these trials forever?

I'm not a lawyer, so I welcome any discussion.

— Tom Logan, Serling, VA

A: He’d try it.   You’d know he’d try it.  A version of seeking sentencing for killing one’s parents on the grounds that you are an orphan. 

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Q: Speaking of hard truths and attempts to remain president:

I learned today, and I hope you are aware, that Fabio Wajngarten is a lawyer for Jair Bolsonaro, the former president of Brazil.

The pronunciation of Wajngarten was not clear to me this evening, but it seems to at least be an approximate match, which, I believe, merits a phone chat, documented in a column, in which the two of you explore your commonalities.

-Andy Schotz

A; Hey, Andy.     I envy the name Fabio.  Appropriate name for the consiglieri of a president who was deemed “unfloppable,” meaning he (Bolsinaro) campaigned as a sexually verile man.    Fabio seemed to stay out of the disgrace his boss, but just by the skin of his teeth. 

Fabio Wajngarten is a lawyer, businessman who has been arrested for condoning crime.

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Q: I knew it was wrong. I knew it would lead to a lifetime of shame, as it has. That I was not yet 22 is no excuse. Sure… everybody of my persuasion was doing it that summer, but I knew right from wrong. I could behave morally even though I was a rock and roll disk jockey. But no… twice a day or more, I played The Archies record of Sugar Sugar on the radio. Steve Taylor 

A: With me, it was The Monkees.  I was an addict.

These is Gene. We are down. Please give me money here.

And please send more questions ‘ observations here:

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